I am Castiel and I am the Angel of Darkness
by RDMerlin
Summary: "May I introduce Castiel to you? My son; your future king. Angel of Darkness. Prince of Hell."- AU. Dean was never rescued from hell, and has now been there for fifty years. Crowley manages to rise to power as King of Hell, with help from his apparent son 'Castiel'. Based on a tumblr gifset.


**Okay, this was based on a gifset on tumblr (I don't know who made it, sorry.) I liked the idea, so decided to continue with it, and of course, make it into a multi-chaptered fic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. **

* * *

It had been fifty years since he had found himself lost in the pit. He could still remember the first thirty years of pain, misery and sorrow but now it was burrowed under the festering rage that boiled within his soul, staining it black. At first, he had been panicked by the corruption of his soul, but it had not taken long for him to embrace it. This was what he was always meant to be. A creature without compassion. A creature without remorse. A cold and skilled killer. A torturer in his prime.

Since he had been here, the hierarchy of hell had changed. He hadn't paid much attention at first; he had just been a low level demon pitifully holding on to the hope of rescue. But now, he was stronger. He was held in high regard. Alistair had trained him. And he was good. So very good. He heard it sometimes-the whispers beneath the flames. The tale of the hunter turned demon that was quickly rising up the ranks. He felt the envy, the hatred, but beneath it all was a spark of fear. In his lifetime he had defeated these demons without the use of supernatural interference, and now he was one of them. He could take on anyone. And everyone knew it.

Of course, Lilith had always been able to keep him in place. She liked to do that with any of the stronger demons. Alistair had faced her fiery wrath many times. But she was gone now. Turned to ash. No one knew how. Some said it was a hunter; but many more said it was one of their own, working in the shadows to gain power. It was hardly surprising. Demons were backstabbing bastards only held in place through fear and coercion. But most demons, including himself, couldn't take on Lilith. Her mysterious death was interesting to say the least. It was the only real development since Azazel's war attempts had been thwarted. A change of routine would be much appreciated. The chorus of screams, shaking the structures solidified with rotting carcasses, drenched in the blood of thousands were getting somewhat monotonous. It was no wonder that demons attempted to escape to the surface world. This place was not pleasant, even for them. The rack called for all of them, and it only took a moment for a demon to become distracted and find themselves forced back onto it by one of their more treacherous brethrens. He knew that if he weren't Alistair's favourite, it would have happened to him repeatedly since he had first got off the damn thing.

His anger at the resurfaced memory caused him to lash out; ruining the delicate pattern of cuts he had been slicing into his trembling victim. They screamed, tears streaming down their face while they choked on their own blood. He frowned; annoyed that he had ruined his masterpiece. Still, now he could have a little more fun with it. He smiled, his face dangerously feral as his eyes glowed black. They continued to scream and he rolled his eyes, already tired with this pathetic mess. He liked the strong ones. They were far more entertaining. With precise movements he lowered the dagger over their throat, slicing it over and watching them gargle on their own blood. He had done this many times before. He knew how to cut the vocal chords when it was impossible for them to die. He had to admit, it was far more interesting watching someone scream silently.

There was a flash of light that had him shielding away, a low growl emitting from his throat as he raised his hands in front of him to try and block it out. There was a strange sound that he had never heard in that place before: silence. For one precarious moment the whole of Perdition was covered in a blanket of silence that sent chills running through his body. The light dimmed somewhat, and he blinked his eyes open, awed by the sight he saw. The only source of light in this place was the hell fire, but once you got to the deepest crevices of hell, it was pitch black. He didn't think anyone knew what was truly down there. He had only been there a couple of times himself, and that was when he was still had his humanity intact. But now, it was washed with a glowing white that seeped from its depth. The hell hounds started to howl furiously, and the chorus of screams started once more, louder now at the sight that was seen. He tried to look away from its grisly depths, but a mixture of morbid fascination and his own fear kept his gaze locked on that deep pit. For a brief moment, he felt his humanity rekindled at the horrors he saw. The sick and twisted creatures that he was seeing were neither humans nor demons, but an abomination of bones and claws with dripping skin that barely covered their gruesome features. They stared up, long tendrils reaching out along the walls as they tried to heave themselves. The lost souls that were stuck in that pit with them did not resemble humans. But that was because the majority of them were demons, trapped there as punishment for their disobedience. The lost souls were also trying to crawl out, but they were bound and it was impossible. And all he could think about was that fact that these monsters were coming closer.

But then, the light intensified and there was an inhuman screech that echoed around hell, and when the light faded again the creatures and the souls were gone: obliterated. No longer feeling like a dear in headlights he felt his humanity slip away from his grasp once more. He did not mourn the lost. His attention instead turned to the source of the light that had now risen far above that strange pit. He narrowed his eyes, making out two figures. They came to rest in the ledge that had been reserved for the rulers of hell. No one had stepped on there since Lilith's defeat.

The light vanished, but the two figures could still be seen through the orange glow of fire. Every demon stared attentive at the two, brandishing their weapons in case they didn't like what they heard. He found himself filled with a spark of excitement but he still had the sense to keep hold of his own blade. His excitement diminished somewhat when he recognized one of the two. Crowley. He frowned; Crowley was just a low level crossroads demon. He wasn't nearly that powerful. But the other one; he must be the source. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he observed the creature next to Crowley. He was already in a human's vessel, and he appeared to be a demon, but there was something more that he could not pinpoint. Maybe it was the way his eyes keep switching between a shimmering blue and the void of black. Or the arrogance that he carried himself with, staring down at all of them with an unrelenting glare.

"Listen up darlings," Crowley called from above. He did not have to speak too loudly. The nature of hell allowed him to be heard and seen by all, as there was technically no such thing as physical distance here. "This is the new plan. Yours truly-I.E. me-is now the king of hell, and you shall all bow to me. Capiche?" Crowley added, his voice soaked with his infuriating arrogant sarcasm. Dean grinded his teeth together, the grip on his weapon tightening. Next to him, he felt Alistair bristle and the air tingled with his rising power.

"I am not serving some low-level imposter such as you." Alistair growled, his usual mocking tone drowned out by his seething anger. Dean smiled, curious to see how this would work out. In all likelihood Alistair would win and then use this opportunity to assume control. Dean was pretty sure the only reason he hadn't done so before was because he was scared of Lilith returning.

"Is that so?" Crowley retorted with a smile. Alistair's eyes flashed black and his form flickered until he was standing on the platform with them, weapon raised as he prepared to slay Crowley. But then, the other figure was behind him, his hand pressed on Alistair's forehead. The demons stared on confused as Alistair's eyes widened in obvious panic. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was cut off when he body started shaking. Dean could see that it wasn't just his vessel, but his very essence. Then, the light was back. But it was localised, emitting out of the unknown demon's hand, and into Alistair. Within seconds he was screaming as he was ignited with white flames. A flash of orange spread throughout his essence before Alistair's very soul erupted in a blinding flash. His vessel crumbled to the floor, but his soul had vanished: dead. All of this happened in a matter of seconds.

"May I introduce Castiel to you," Crowley commented after a moment of stunned silence had passed. A lot of the demons had lowered their weapons, prepared to surrender to a demon that was clearly more powerful than Alistair, so obviously far more powerful than any of them. Dean stared at Castiel as Crowley continued. "My son. Your future king..." Dean felt the rustle of confusion that passed throughout the gathered demons. A demon's son was an unusual phenomenon. Mainly unheard of. And they were always half demon, half human. But Dean could sense nothing human within him. Besides, how would Crowley have the power to go about that without drawing Lilith's attention? Or Alistair's? Crowley did not seem bothered, and clearly was not going to elaborate. "Angel of Darkness," Castiel tilted his head, a small smile forming on his face as he observed his new kingdom. "Prince of hell." There was a roar of what could have been thunder, and then they all saw it. Castiel rolled his shoulders, as small shadows appeared from behind his shoulder blades. Slowly they unravelled, stretching out behind him as if prepared for flight. There was a flash of light and the shadows of wings were there. The wingspan seemed to stretch forever, seemingly dwarfing the small figure caught in the middle of them. Castiel raised his head, his eyes glowing with pure, undiluted power as his very vessel started to shimmer with supernatural light. With a moment's hesitation the demons started to kneel one by one. Dean frowned, raising his eyes to meet Castiel's, who returned his frown. Then, slowly, he started to kneel, never taking his eyes of the powerful being.


End file.
